The Experiment
by ImpulsiveWriter321
Summary: "Did she love him enough, since she could never make herself believe that she didn't love him at all, to work with him and their highly different personalities? Almost immediately while looking into his eyes she had her answer. She did."
1. Say It Twice

**Well hello! For those who know my penname I know I** **'** **ve been absent from this site** **…** **.FOR A REALLY LONG TIME. College and life just kick your butt 10 times over, trust me BUT. I finally finished Series 4 of Sherlock and I...I just couldn** **'** **t stay away any longer. I wasn** **'** **t planning on this being a one-shot...so prepare for more chapters coming. :) For those who are waiting on other stories - fret not! I have so soooooo many chapters of 100 Things About Annie (Covert Affairs) just WAITING to be posted...it** **'** **s going to be a magical day when I finally get all of those on there.**

 **I'** **m also pretty sure I have another Sherlock story out there...I haven** **'** **t even logged onto my account yet though so I** **'** **m not entirely sure. We** **'** **ll see if I want to continue that one or if I want to just pool all my efforts into this one. Thank you and I hope you enjoy!**

The walls of 221 Baker Street had seen and heard plenty of trumpeting sounds and knife points that stick with the handle dangling above the floor. Colorful language and shouted arguments seemed to be printed against them, clear as day for anyone who walked by. A yellow smiley face, repainted by none other than John Watson after the explosion of Baker Street, stared into the eyes of Molly Hooper as she stood across the room from Sherlock Holmes, her hands slightly shaking. It had only taken a week or so to clean up the debris and replace the burned wallpaper. It had not been refurbished or completed quite yet, and on the dreary cold night she decided to travel there were only a few candles lighting the flat, but she found that she couldn't stay away any longer.

After Eurus had been placed back in Sherrinford, Molly received a call from a steady, yet quietly shaken, Mycroft explaining the situation and specifically the phone call that she had taken from Sherlock that rocked her world. When she realized what had happened she had wanted to run immediately to Baker Street and make sure that her friends were alive and breathing.

But she couldn't. It was impossible for her to bring herself to look Sherlock in the eyes after the conversation they had. Directly following the fallout of Eurus, she received two singular text messages from Sherlock.

We should speak, Molly. There are some events that we need to sort through. SH

You know where to find me. SH

It took her at least five hours to even read his messages and she hadn't even responded. Finally, she bit the bullet and made her way to Baker Street. She found him alone, staring at a stack of papers that he had stabbed through. He's confused about something within those papers, she thought, as she walked into the familiar room. He didn't turn to see her, but she could see his fists squeeze tight as he heard her walk in. So here they were, facing back to back and still silent as they had been for the last five minutes.

She closed her eyes gently and finally spoke. "You wanted to see me, Sherlock?"

He didn't answer immediately so she kept going. "You called me here, Sherlock, therefore you get to speak first."

"I want to apologize...and confess." His deep baritone voice reached her ears and she almost spun around to watch his mouth form the words, the mouth that had caused her so much pain and yet so much hope.

"Apologize for what?"

"For hurting you."

Her breath caught. "Which time?"

His voice was hard when he responded. "I have never intentionally meant to hurt you."

She gave a sharp laugh. "Could have fooled me."

"Please, believe me. I know the image of myself with...public relationships is not admirable. The words I say are sometimes...not what I mean."

She sighed. She wanted to be angry, to yell at him and tell him how much he had really hurt her. Yet, she could not deny the feelings that she still had bubbling inside. She told herself that she did not love him, no matter what she said over the phone for his little "experiment". The hardest part about it? The hardest part for her to admit? He didn't love her. He never had and he never will no matter what he had said before.

She swallowed. "Say what you need to say Sherlock. Otherwise I'll see myself out. Because I can't take this again, not again, you know I can't - "

"The first one was forced."

His cool voice, surprisingly shaking, interrupted her small rant. "What?"

"The first one was forced. I needed you to say it. I needed to...save your life."

"I know. Mycroft told me -" Molly began.

"The second one was not."

Any response that she had planned disappeared from her lips. She let his words hang in the air, waiting for him to say something else. Anything else.

She heard him take a small inhale. "The second time was real."

"What are you talking about?" She breathed.

She hadn't realized that he had turned to face her. Yet, suddenly, he was standing almost directly behind her. Taking another breath, that seemed impossible to get, she turned slowly to face him. He didn't answer her or look her in the eye.

"Are you talking about the phone call?" She asked.

"You know I am," he sighed. "Forgive me, Molly, this type of….dialogue is difficult of me. It always has been."

"It's simple, Sherlock. You just say what you want. To whoever you want."

"It's not that simple, Molly. You know that." Finally, his eyes rose to meet hers. What she saw caused her throat to tighten. He was sincere, she could see that now. What he was saying, however, she couldn't believe. Not yet.

"Then, try," she pressed.

For almost half a minute he was silent, just staring into her eyes. Finally, finally, he spoke.

"The first...statement of affection was forced. The second...the second was not."

She blinked, her eyes never leaving his. "What are you saying Sherlock?"

"I'm saying that I was telling the truth."

"You...you love me?" Dammit, Molly thought. Why the hell did she say anything. Of course he doesn't.

Surprising her, a small smile came to his face. "It seems so easy coming from your mouth."

Molly was silent for a moment, trying to sort through the fuzzy noise that was filling her head. "How do I know?"

"What?"

"How do I know that you actually love me? Everything you have said up to this point says otherwise."

"I know. And I understand whatever decision you should want to make, including if you never want to see me again."

Molly scoffed. "I'm not going to walk away from you, you need me."

His smile grew a bit. "I do. I doubt John is as experienced as you are in autopsies."

"Not at all," she chuckled. "But you still need to prove yourself."

Sherlock's eyes grew.

"How are you going to show me that you love me, Sherlock?"

The silence between them was deafening. His eyes were constantly searching hers and she could see his mind whirring a mile a minute. Suddenly, he took a step forward and gathered her hands in his own.

"Molly, it will take a lifetime of actions and intentions for me to undo the wrongs that I have said and done to you. But if this is a start, let it be known that my words are true," His eyes burned into her's as he squeezed her hands. "I love you."

She probably looked like a gaping fish as she looked at him. After years of being berated and thrown around, he took a 180 and was telling her something that she never thought that she was going to hear.

"You're...you're telling the truth?" She breathed, gently squeezing his hands back. He gave her that gentle smile that she had grown to love to see.

"It's taken me a long while to admit it to myself. My upbringing was a bit...skewed to keep quiet about those sort of feelings, as I'm sure you know."

"I do. With a childhood like yours it was probably impossible to end up any different."

He didn't respond, but he didn't let go of her hands either. She could see his eyes searching hers, almost looking for a response. She started a bit, suddenly realizing the answer or response that he was looking for. He was vulnerable, putting himself out in the open before her. Right there in that moment, she could see the possible future that they could have. Being with him would be tricky, he was still the brash, condescending yet brilliant man she had known but this was a whole new side to him that he had kept hidden for basically his whole life. Could she live with it though? Did she love him enough, since she could never make herself believe that she didn't love him at all, to work with him and their highly different personalities?

Almost immediately while looking into his eyes she had her answer.

She did.

"It's alright, though, because we'll have a long time for you to tell me all about your childhood," she smiled, slipping one of her hands from his and placing it gently on his cheek and allowing her fingers to follow his sharp cheekbones. "I love you, too."

She could feel the tension leave his body as she spoke her words. A small sigh escaped his lips and his eyes closed slightly as his thumbs gently caressed her hands. Molly allowed a soft laugh to pass through her lips, laughing even harder when Sherlock's eyes shot up to meet hers again. "What's so funny?"

"I don't think I've ever seen you this nervous before. What happened to the cool, calm and collected Sherlock Holmes?"

He gave a sharp laugh as his eyes slid shut again. "He met you."

Molly's breath caught once again in her throat. She was going to have to get used to Sherlock saying these sort of things or she was going to have a heart attack by next week. She looked at the man in front of her, his closed eyes, his now steady breathing and warm hands. She figured if they were going to make this work they might as well start it off on the right foot. Regretfully letting go of his hands she took a step forward to wrap her arms around his middle and placing her head against his chest so that she could feel his heartbeat. He paused for a moment but then reciprocated with his own arms wrapping around her and pulling her close.

"You've always counted, Molly Hooper. Out of everyone...you have always been able to see me. Never forget that."

She could feel the rumble in his chest as he spoke. With his arms around her, his head resting on hers and his words filling her ears she hadn't felt so safe in years. They stood in silence for what seemed like forever, nothing but the sound of their heartbeats filling the room.

"You know," Molly finally whispered, pulling slightly away to look him in the eye. "To start this right, I think it's only fair that I hear of what happened the past couple of days from you. Mycroft's versions are always so….bland."

Sherlock chuckled and pulled her close to him again. "It's the least you deserve."

And so she found herself pulled onto the only surviving couch in 221 Baker Street as Sherlock kept his arms around her and she snuggled into his chest. He didn't disappoint in his retelling - she discovered more detail than Mycroft ever would have given her. She hadn't realized that she had been dozing off as the story went forward or that Sherlock's voice became quieter and quieter as his own drowsiness betrayed him.

As the clock struck one a.m., she would never see Mrs. Hudson sneak into the flat and place a large wool blanket over them, grinning from ear to ear.

"About damn time, Sherlock," she whispered as she blew out the remaining candle in the flat and closed the door.


	2. Calling Card

**We** **'** **re just going to assume that Harry lives nearby John. XD**

 **Thank you all so much for the follows and favorites! It always means so much. Also, don** **'** **t forget to review! It** **'** **s so always so nice to read your comments, whether they are praise or constructive criticism! :D**

Whenever John Watson received messages from Mrs. Hudson he feared the worst for his friend who currently resided in the same building as her. Either he had begun drugs again, he had tried shooting something, or she was getting multiple complaints from other tenants about noise.

So as he tried to juggle a crying Rosie and her almost empty oatmeal bowl in one hand and his phone in the other, he attempted to check the message that Mrs. Hudson had sent him. He was surprised to see that it was a picture message.

"Give me a minute Rosie, Daddy has to check his phone." he cooed to her as he finally got her calmed down enough for him to place her in her highchair and to place the rest of her oatmeal in front of her. She was still whimpering, but her brightly colored spoon spinning in the bland oatmeal seemed to distract her for a moment. Knowing he only had a few seconds, he quickly opened his phone and selected the message. What he saw...floored him. He immediately dialed Mrs. Hudson's number.

"Mrs. Hudson? Yes, it's John. What in the world are Sherlock and Molly laying on the couch for? No, he would tell me that, Mrs. Hudson, I know he - "

He paused as she explained that she had found them like that the night before and that they were still like that in the early morning. John balked.

"He never sleeps in past eight," he mused as John glanced at the clock that read 9:30 a.m.. Especially alongside a woman. A woman like Molly Hooper.

He shook his head, trying to clear his thoughts. Sherlock Holmes would tell him if he had a...girlfriend. Wouldn't he?

As the doorbell rang, it startled John out of his thoughts and Rosie threw her spoon into the air.

"Oh, coming, coming!" John yelled as he stooped down to pick up the spoon and jog toward the door with his phone clutched between his shoulder and ear. "Mrs. Hudson, I'll see you soon all right? Goodbye."

Opening the door, he was met with the smiling face of his sister Harry.

"Hey John!"

"Hey, Harry, um, Rosie's in the kitchen," he gestured, small bits of oatmeal flying off the spoon.

"Ah, breakfast time, huh? Rosie, are you having some oatmeal?" Harry called out and Rosie immediately responded with a happy giggle.

"Thank you again for this Harry, I really appreciate it. It's going to take a whole lot of time to put everything back together again -"

"Don't worry about, dear brother. I'm excited to have Rosie for the week. Just let me know if you need me to keep her longer."

John shook his head as he pulled the empty bowl away from Rosie before she painted the kitchen with oatmeal. "No, no, it should be only a week. Besides, I don't want to stay away from her for that long. Do you still have that list of emergency numbers that I sent you -"

Harry smiled at him. "Don't worry about us John, you just worry about fixing everything up. Rosie's in good hands, aren't you?"

Rosie's smile lit up the room as Harry scooped her up in her arms.

John grinned as he picked up Rosie's bag and handed it to Harry. "So, I'll be over to pick her up on Saturday."

"Of course," Harry replied as she shuffled her way back to the front door. John followed and smiled as Rosie attempted to pull on Harry's hair.

"Hey little girl!" Harry laughed.

"Don't worry, you're not the only one. She does that to Sherlock all the time."

"Yeah but you've also said that Sherlock has the curls that bounce back, mine just sort of...hangs."

"Doesn't matter to her, hair is hair," John laughed as he leaned against the doorframe.

"Well, give my regards to Sherlock. Maybe I'll finally be able to meet the man?" Harry asked as she turned one last time toward her brother.

"Maybe," John responded. "He's going to be...busy."

Harry smiled sadly. "Of course. You better get going then. Say bye-bye to daddy, Rosie."

John bent down to kiss Rosie on the cheek. "Be good for Harry, Rosie."

"Oh she will. Be well, dear brother."

"Goodbye Harry. Goodbye Rosie."

Harry waved before she bent down to place Rosie in her car. John quickly backed into his flat for he knew that he kept watching his sister and daughter he would want to run down and take her back. He closed the door behind him and braced his back against it, giving a large sigh.

"It's going to be a long week."

It didn't take long for him to reach Baker Street, even if some of it was still blocked of by Scotland Yard. Greg was currently running an investigation into the explosion, but Mycroft had pretty much handled all of the minute details for him. Greg was just going through the motions at this point. He dodged around some straggling eavesdroppers, hoping they would hear or see something that clued them into what happened to the great Sherlock Holmes's home. They noticed who he was and attempted to get him to stop, but John acted as if they weren't there and slipped into the main door.

Mrs. Hudson must have heard him come in, as she wasted no time in sneaking out of her apartment and racing toward him.

"Oh John, I couldn't believe it. Did he talk to you at all? I had no idea - "

John cut her off. "No, Mrs. Hudson, I wasn't aware of anything. Are they awake yet? Sherlock and I need to start cleaning some of the small debris up."

"I haven't heard anything. Be careful when you walk up there though, who knows what they're up to."

John balked. He didn't feel like imagining any sort picture that Mrs. Hudson was presenting.

"I'm sure they're just still sleeping. I'll go up and see - "

"About time you arrived, John, we have a lot of work to do."

John glanced up the stairs in surprise as Sherlock walked down them, a small smile on his face.

"Oh, Sherlock, you're awake," Mrs. Hudson stammered. "I haven't heard anything from you all morning…"

"It has been a quiet morning," Sherlock agreed as he motioned for John to follow him. "We'll see you to you business, Mrs. Hudson."

"Of course," she agreed as John was nearly pulled by Sherlock up the stairs and into his flat. John looked from Sherlock shutting the door to the main foyer where the other person in question was sitting on the couch, a red blush rushing into her cheeks.

"Oh, hello John," Molly whispered, giving him a small wave.

"Hello, Molly." John responded. He wanted to question her immediately, but he kept his tongue and knew that either Sherlock would tell him or he would be able to pull it out of him later.

"Molly has offered to help us clean up a bit," Sherlock mentioned. Molly stood quietly and John caught the sight of a discarded blanket that had been thrown to the end of the couch.

"I can grab some garbage bags," she muttered as she flittered past them and into the kitchen, closing the small door behind her.

John quickly turned toward Sherlock, a puzzled expression on his face. "Do you, uh, do you care to explain?"

"About?"

John gave a strong point toward the kitchen. "Um, Molly? Did she..stay over last night?"

"She did."

"...with you?"

"Isn't that what significant others normally do?"

John froze, the words that were forming on his lips falling away. "What?"

Sherlock looked at him as he walked around to sit at the only chair in the room. "I said isn't that what significant others -"

"Oh, don't be a smart ass. You know what I mean," John scoffed, trying to keep his voice down as they heard Molly clunking around the kitchen. Sherlock gave him a gentle smile, which threw John off guard. He almost never smiled, let alone when speaking about the concept of love or affection.

"Yes, I suppose you have already been informed by Mrs. Hudson of the situation," Sherlock paused and took a small breath.

"So, you and Molly are...together?"

He didn't answer right away. Finally, he looked John in the eye. "Yes, I do believe we are."

John's response was cut off by Molly returning to the foyer, her arms full of boxes of garbage bags. "Sorry it took so long, I didn't realize how many bags of supplies Mrs. Hudson had brought up here."

She handed John a few bags and placed the rest on the couch. Pulling some more out of the boxes, she walked around to where Sherlock was sitting. As he opened a bag, John watched out of the corner of his eye as Molly brought him a couple bags...and his hand caressed hers gently as she handed them off.

John averted his eyes, suddenly feeling like he had been eavesdropping on an intimate moment that he shouldn't have. Molly scurried back to the couch to grab some garbage bags herself, her face slowly blossoming to a cherry red. He decided that he should give them a little...push.

"I'm happy for you two."

Molly froze and Sherlock smiled.

"Wha - what do you mean?" Molly laughed, fussing with the bag in her hands that was conveniently refusing to open.

"I'm happy you're together. You deserve the happiness."

Sherlock stood and gently took the bag from Molly's hands and opened it for her.

"You didn't really think we'd be able to keep it a secret did you?" He whispered quietly. She smiled at him. John watched, floored at what he was seeing. His friend, the cold and logical man he had come to know, and the sweet Molly who ran her life on emotion and relationships. If someone asked him if Sherlock and Molly could ever be romantically together a year ago, he would have laughed at them. Now...he can see it. They were so opposite that they balanced each other out. Sherlock rooted Molly with his facts and figures and she pulled him out of his comfort zone that he had placed himself in since early childhood.

With a jolt John realized that it could work.

The next couple hours was filled with dragging full garbage bags to dumpsters and realigning knick knacks around the parlor. Molly seemed to become comfortable with being around John with him knowing about her and Sherlock to the point that John caught her grazing her hand against Sherlock's back or arm. He never brought it up but he met Sherlock's eyes once or twice and found a light there that he had never seen before. His smile never left his face, even when Molly went back into the kitchen to put the unused garbage bags away.

"What are you smiling at?" Sherlock muttered, flipping a pen in his hand.

"You," John responded. "And Molly."

Sherlock laughed. "Of course you are."

"Can you blame me? I'm just happy you took my advice."

Sherlock paused. "Before it's too late."

John didn't know how to responded right away, but he was interrupted anyway by hearing Molly's ringtone in the kitchen.

"Dr. Hooper speaking," her muffled voice said.

"Must be Barts," Sherlock said.

Molly walked into the parlor with her phone glued to her ear. "Today? It's nearly five o'clock." She paused for a moment, listening to the voice on the other end of the line. "Okay, okay, I'll come in. Give me about half an hour."

She hung up and gave a heavy sigh.

"Do you have to go into work?" John asked.

"Apparently there are officers from Brighton that brought a body to Barts and they need an autopsy right away."

Sherlock's brow furrowed. "Why didn't they bring the body to a Brighton hospital?"

"Who knows, they might be booked. Either way, I've got to go," she turned to Sherlock and smiled at him. "See you tomorrow?"

"Of course," Sherlock responded. He followed her to the door and John lagged behind, letting them have their goodbye.

"Goodbye, John!" Molly called back.

"Goodbye, Molly," John responded.

Heaving a sigh John plopped down on the couch, rolling his neck slowly and closing his eyes. He heard the muffled voices of Sherlock and Molly as she walked out the door. After a few moments, he heard Sherlock's feet shuffle across the floor without him saying anything.

"What's wrong?" John asked, his eyes still closed.

"What do you mean?" Sherlock's gruff voice responded.

"I know you, Sherlock," John stated as he hoised himself forward to lean his elbows against his knees. His eyes opened to see Sherlock's concerned expression across the room. "You're worried about something."

"It doesn't sit right with me. They should have brought the body to a Brighton hospital...they have plenty."

"Well, like Molly said, they might be all booked."

"Impossible. Even if they were booked, if the officers needed an autopsy right away they would have put in a rush order."

"I'm sure Molly will give you all the details when she's done at work."

Sherlock looked at John quickly but then averted his eyes. Even so, he caught the questioning in them.

"I suppose."

….

To any outside observer, the walls of St. Barts are hard and cold but to Molly they were engaging and inviting. She enjoyed the normal quietness that Barts had to offer as she milled around the morgue doing multiple autopsies a day.

Today, however, the quietness had been disturbed.

Cop cars were blaring in front of the building and police were bustling around the bottom floors of Barts. As Molly walked into the main hallway she could see her boss, Dr. Milligan, talking to an uniformed officer.

"I can't have all of you in here at once. There are patients in here, you know."

"I understand, Dr. Milligan. But this case is turning into a massive manhunt. Is your pathologist here yet?"

The man looked skittish as he glanced at passing faces, hoping one would stand up to claim the title.

Dr. Milligan hadn't seen her yet. "Dr. Hooper will be here shortly. The body is in the morgue?"

"Yes." The detective responded.

"Dr. Milligan," Molly spoke as she came within earshot of them. Dr. Milligan's eyes flashed up to meet hers and she could see the apology within them.

"Dr. Hooper. This is Detective Shawn Andrews, from Brighton."

"Detective Andrews," Molly greeted, extending her hand. "Dr. Molly Hooper. How can I be of help to you?"

"I'm sure Dr. Milligan explained that we have an autopsy we'd like you to perform," he responded as they walked toward the stairs that would lead them to the morgue.

"Yes. Were you completely booked in Brighton?"

"Not...exactly."

As they entered the morgue she noticed the familiar gurney that now held a body with a white sheet over it. She cringed as she walked to her desk to find that officers that were currently lounging around her area had scattered files everywhere. She quickly tried to straighten them and put her desk back in order as Detective Andrews grabbed a second file from her desk.

"All right, all of you out of here. Let Dr. Hooper do her job."

Her eyes narrowed as they trudged out the door and she snagged her lab coat from its hook. "Okay, what's the story?"

"What?" He faltered, barely glancing up at her as he looked over the file.

"What happened?" She asked again. She made her way toward the body and grabbed some the tools that she would need out of their drawers.

"Um, he was murdered. Stabbed fifteen times."

"God," Molly breathed.

"But...there's….there's something else."

"Yes?"

Detective Andrews walked around the body towards her, closed his file, and finally looked her in the eye. "You were asked for specifically."

"By who?" She asked, pulling on latex gloves.

His face was hard as as he pulled something from his pocket. He handed a folded piece of parchment to her gingerly. She took it and turned it around to find in big black letters the words **To Dr. Molly Hooper** written on the outside of it.

"This was found on top of the body. The killer wanted you to do the autopsy."

 **Thank you for reading! This is getting to be so fun to write and I have plenty of ideas ready to go. Please, read, review, and enjoy!**


	3. Heart of the Board

**Thank you all for the lovely reviews and follows! They are greatly appreciated!**

John lifted the last garbage bag over his head and into the large dumpster that Scotland Yard had provided for cleanup. After plugging his nose and quickly shutting the lid, he made his way back up the stairs of Baker Street for what felt like the millionth time to 221B. Sherlock was huddled over his computer, his fingers whizzing away on the keyboard. John glanced over his shoulder as he sat in the now rectified chairs by the fireplace.

"You're already looking for new cases?"

Sherlock shrugged. "Why not?"

"Um, maybe because we just got your place put back together? Maybe because we just went through everything with your sister? Don't you want a break?"

"My mind doesn't take breaks, John. You don't want me to get bored, do you?"

John shuddered, remembering the more...explosive...times that Sherlock had gotten bored. "No, however…"

"What?" Sherlock asked, eyes still glued to the computer screen.

"Maybe you could...spend some time with Molly?"

Sherlock's fingers froze and John could see his eyes soften. "I suppose that would be a...good thing?"

John nodded. "Good thing, Sherlock."

Sherlock shifted in his chair to look at him, a crease in his brow. "John?"

"Yeah?"

"You know as well as I that with my personality I can quite easily...screw this up, so to speak."

John leaned forward and placed his elbows on his knees. "Yes, that's true. But I also know that you're willing to try to make it all work."

Sherlock was silent for a moment. "I do love her."

John smiled softly. "I know. You're just not used to loving someone. Don't worry, I'll keep you on track."

Sherlock gave him a small smile. John opened his mouth to suggest possibly grabbing some fish and chips when Sherlock's phone rang on the table next to him. John looked over to it and saw Molly's name flashing on the screen. He picked it up gingerly and handed it to Sherlock.

"It's Molly."

Sherlock grabbed it and answered quickly.

"Molly?"

He listened carefully and John watched as a worried grimace settled on his face. Suddenly, he stood up and grabbed his Belstaff coat from the couch. "Do not leave the morgue, do not perform the autopsy, no matter what they say. I will be there soon, okay?"

John stood up quickly, trying to catch the quick words his friend was muttering. He didn't think that he had ever seen Sherlock move as quickly as he was now as he sped down the stairs toward the door.

"Sherlock? What happened? What's wrong?"

"We need to get to Barts," He claimed as he slipped his phone in his pocket.

"Why?"

"Molly's been threatened," Sherlock explained as the door shut behind him. John stood frozen on the steps.

"What?"

…

Molly stood solid against the wall in her new office, that she had gratefully received from St. Bart's after a couple years of "fantastic service" as they said, tapping her fingers against the wall in an agitated manner. As soon as she had slid open the note and read its contents, she quickly placed the note on the table, ran out of the morgue and called Sherlock. Dr. Milligan and Detective Andrews had tried to knock on the door and ask her if she was alright, but she couldn't bring herself to open the door. The words written in blood red ink on the note kept fluttering into her mind and she closed her eyes tightly to block them out.

"Why me?" She whispered. Before she could think any farther, however, she suddenly heard a bang of a door flying open at the end of the hall. She moved toward her door, thinking that she had to listen closely to see who had arrived. She should have known.

"Where is she? And who the hell are you?"

She smiled slightly at Sherlock's tone. She knew that tone. It was the same tone she had heard when she had assisted him on cases when John was unavailable. It was the tone she had heard over the phone when they were held captive by Euros. It was her tone. Silently, she unlocked the door and opened it slightly. What she saw would have made her giggle if the situation wasn't so dire. John was gaping at his friend and seemingly was trying to keep him from punching the next person that tried to speak with him. She could see the worry lines that were barely visible on Sherlock's face as his eyes searched the morgue and the faces within it. Finally his eyes landed on her office door. He walked past John and Dr. Milligan quickly and slipped into her office and closed the door behind him.

She opened her mouth to speak but was surprised to find herself pulled towards him, his arms sneaking around her. She sighed happily and rested her head against his chest. She wasn't hearing knocks on her door any more so she assumed John was keeping everyone at bay. Suddenly, Sherlock stiffened a bit.

"I'm sorry. Is this...okay? I did not think before I acted." She smiled into his chest.

"Yes, Sherlock, it's very okay. John would say you're doing a good."

She wanted to stay in arms and wish the rest of the world away. She didn't think that she had ever felt more safe.

"Molly, are you alright?" She felt his chest rumble as he spoke.

"I'm better now. I really don't want to go back in there, though."

Sherlock's response was quick. "You don't have to."

Molly spoke softly. "I do, though. The note said."

"Where is the note?"

"In the morgue," she responded. Sherlock pulled away a bit and lifted her chin with a gentle finger.

"Stay here. I'll be right back."

With the same surprising grace that he held when he walked into her office he slid out the door, she assumed, to get the note that was left for her. She heard no voices outside except for John.

"Do you want me to wait out here?"

"For now," Sherlock's soft voice answered. "Give her a while to collect herself."

Molly smiled at their kindness. She appreciated the given space but she still leaned against the door to open it fully.

"It's alright, boys. I can help."

Sherlock's eyes met hers quickly. "Are you sure?"

She smiled. "Yes. The whole thing balances on me anyway, doesn't it?"

John walked up next to her and gently laid a hand on her shoulder. "We're going to figure this out Molly."

She nodded as she followed Sherlock back into the morgue. The body lay still on the table and the note lay exactly where Molly had thrown it down. She gave a small silent thanks to Detective Andrews and Dr. Milligan for having the sense not pick it up. She watched as Sherlock pulled on rubber gloves and gently lifted the note and unfolded it. His eyes narrowed slightly.

"What does it say?" John asked gently, coming up to stand next to Sherlock.

Sherlock took a slight breath and glanced up to meet Molly's eyes. She nodded.

"This body is meant for you. No one else. You are the heart of the board. We will know. If anyone helps we have methods to exterminate you. Good luck."

John whistled. "What the hell does that mean? It's sounds all...jumbled."

"I have no idea," Molly answered.

Sherlock's brow furrowed, his eyes flashing over to her. "I'm going to call Mycroft."

Molly started. "What? Why?"

"Methods to exterminate you? Molly, I agree with Sherlock on this one, we've got to get some big guns involved."

"But, but, the _rest_ of the message. No one else?"

"No one else may examine the body," Sherlock answered quickly. "If it were to be only you involved in this then you would have already been exterminated by bringing us in."

Molly's face went white. Noticing the silence, Sherlock met John's cautioning gaze.

"Uh, I mean, not that we would let that happen. Ever," His eyes quickly went to hers and he held her gaze. "Ever."

A small smile graced her face. "I know."

"I'll uh...call Lestrade. He should be here for this."

Molly gave him a small nod as he left the room with his cellphone in hand. The two left behind were silent for a moment, Sherlock analyzing the note in fine detail. Molly wrung her hands, her words tipping on her tongue.

"I want to examine it." She finally blurted out.

"What?" Sherlock responded distractedly.

"I want to examine the body. See what all the fuss is about."

Sherlock glanced up at her. He could see the fire behind her eyes and the determination in her stance. Yet, he also felt the adrenaline firing through his blood that was currently screaming at him to lock her in a room and take out whoever had the nerve to threaten her.

"I...agree," he began. "But we need to be careful. We don't know quite yet who is behind all of this."

Molly walked over to him, gently grasping the note from his hand and caressing his thumb. "Sherlock, you're going to be right here. If anything happens then you and John can stop it."

HIs eyes closed gently, his body relaxing at her touch. The silence that settled between them calmed his racing mind.

"Anything at all. _Anything_ happens and I'm stopping it."

The hand that had been massaging small circles on his thumb came up to cradle his cheek. "I know."

Sherlock leaned into Molly's hand, letting out a contented sigh. "How do you do that?"

"Do what?"

"Calm any situation that you are in. This is a high tension, high stress moment where your own life is in danger and you are the calmest out of all of us."

Molly gave a small laugh as she ran her thumb across his stubble. "It's a talent."

Surprising himself, he snaked his arm around her waist to hold her close. His mouth was dry and his palm was sweating, which was a brand new experience for him. He wasn't used to having these types of reactions, especially to a woman.

Opening his eyes, he looked down at her deep brown eyes and gave a short laugh. "What have you done to me?"

Her light smile graced her face. "I could ask you the same thing, Holmes."

Sherlock's mind raced again. "If I...attempt something, do you promise not to hit me?"

"Hit you?"

Moving as quickly as he could so he didn't lose his nerve, Sherlock dipped his head slightly to catch her lips on his. She froze at first, but quickly leaned into him and snaked her hand that was on his cheek to go all around his neck. Suddenly, his entire mind went blank, his body simply enjoying the new sensations that were flowing between them. He had kissed a woman before, he had held firm through his whole plan with Janine, but he had never been physically affectionate toward a woman that he actually _wanted_ a relationship with. This was new to him. And he was surprised to find that he _liked_ it.

Finally breaking away, Molly leaned against his chest with her forehead resting on his. Her other hand that wasn't snaked in his hair had found its way under his jacket to bunch up his shirt. Sherlock's large hands rested on the small of her back, keeping her pushed against him.

"Why in the world did you think that I was going to hit you for... _that,_ " she gasped.

"This is all new to me, Molly. I wasn't sure how... _that_...was going to go."

"It went well. Very, very, well."

"I'll say."

The voice in the door made them jump.

"John!" Molly squealed. She attempted to step back, but Sherlock held her close.

"Glad to see you've taken my advice, Sherlock," John laughed, a twinkle sparkling in his eyes. "You're officially completed as a human being."

Sherlock scoffed. "Very funny, Watson."

Molly's eyes shifted confusedly between the two men. John shook his head at her lightly, informing her that she had nothing to worry about. "Lestrade said he'll be here as quick as he can."

Molly gulped. "Shall I get prepped then?"

The smile that was on Sherlock's face dropped at bit. "I believe you should."

All of their eyes were on the body lying on the slab. Nobody breathed until Molly stepped away to her sink to wash her hands. Then it was constant movement. John was checking the police report that had been brought in by Brighton and Molly was fishing gloves out of the cabinet. Sherlock, however. Sherlock was still attempting to get the blaring words out of his mind.

 _You are the heart of the board._

And then a flash of him holding a gun at a pool...Moriarty's smug face in front of him.

 _I will burn the heart out of you._

"There's no way," Sherlock muttered. "He's dead."

"What was that?" John asked, sliding up next to him.

"Nothing," Sherlock responded. "Nothing at all."

 **Woof! This one took me longer to write as today is my last day of finals! XD Lots of studying and writing essays, etc. etc. So I also apologize that this one is a bit shorter. But! Please still read and review!**


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